


Baby Please Come Home

by EmpressOfEdge



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, Humor, I promise i'll fix it, I'm so sorry for pt 1, Two Shot, and in part two there will be, but I PROMISE IT GETS HAPPY IN PT 2 COMING SOON!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressOfEdge/pseuds/EmpressOfEdge
Summary: It’s cold. That’s what Yang’s most aware of. Usually around this time of year not even the weather can make her feel cold. She’s usually kept warm by family, and hot chocolate, and the sheer amount of holiday cheer. But this year is different.Ruby’s on her own adventure with what remains of team JNPR. Her dad’s putting on a brave face, but she can tell he’s worried, about Ruby, about her, about what’s coming. And Yang’s alone.--It’s warm. That’s what Yang’s most aware of. She snuggles further into the warmth and the source of it snuggles back. A smile slips across Yang’s lips as soft hair and ears brush under her chin, against her neck. Warm breaths skip lightly over her collarbones, and she’s just as grateful that she gets to wake up to this today as she is every day.Yang cracks an eye open and chances a glance at the clock on Blake’s nightstand, sighing and snuggling further into their bed, into her wife’s embrace, when she realizes it’s only 6 a.m.NOW WITH PART 2 AKA TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF!
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 42
Kudos: 226





	1. My Baby is Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays! I know this isn't the super fluffy cheerfulness and for that I apologize, but I promise it'll make pt2 all the more better! Part 1 takes place between vol 3 and 4.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

It’s cold. That’s what Yang’s most aware of. Usually around this time of year not even the weather can make her feel cold. She’s usually kept warm by family, and hot chocolate, and the sheer amount of holiday cheer. But this year is different.

Ruby’s on her own adventure with what remains of team JNPR. Her dad’s putting on a brave face, but she can tell he’s worried, about Ruby, about her, about what’s coming. And Yang’s alone.

She’s _alone_.

And she feels it now more than ever, with only one arm to wrap around herself to try and feel warm. She knows it’s ridiculous, because the house has heat, and her Aura keeps her protected, but it’s a chill so deeply embedded into her being that she simply can’t shake it. And as the holidays grow closer, that chill gets worse, and Yang’s reminded of every person that’s not there to keep her warm.

Her mother.

Her mom _._

Her sister.

Her teammates.

Her friends.

Her partner.

Her _partner_.

There’s a twinge in Yang’s chest as she thinks of Blake. One that only grows more painful as the image of her becomes more and more focused. She’d thought with distance between them, Blake would fade. That the longer they were apart, the easier it would be to forget. But it’s not. Yang’s learning that it’s impossible to forget Blake. And every time she tries to forget even the smallest detail – just to bring herself some relief on those nights where she tries to be angry about what happened – it only becomes more engrained into her memory.

The color of Blake’s eyes. Golden amber, with beautiful dark specks of black. Yang can see them so clearly, as if she’d looked into them only yesterday.

The smooth velvet of Blake’s voice. Always soft-spoken, but never quiet where it mattered. Yang can hear it in her ears at night, when sleep alludes her; reminded of the nights at Beacon where Blake would read her novels to Yang when Yang couldn’t focus enough to study anymore.

The roughness of Blake’s hands. Calloused from her years fighting in the White Fang. From her time training to be better. Training to _do_ better. Yet, Yang only remembers how gentle Blake’s hands felt in her own, on the rare occasions she got to hold them.

The light scent of Blake’s shampoo. Lilac. Gentle, like a breeze in Spring. She remembers always catching it drift off her partner after her showers, when her hair was still damp, and a towel was strewn lazily around her neck after a feeble attempt to dry it.

And her _hair_. Soft and dark and beauti—

Yang shakes her head. There’s far too much to remember about Blake. And with every detail Yang remembers and etches into her memory, she feels herself get a little colder. Deciding she needs a distraction, she finally flings the covers off herself and stumbles out of bed.

There’s snow on the ground, and Yang remembers when that would have had her out of bed bright and early, rather than at noon. Yang finds an old hoodie draped over the chair in the corner of her room and awkwardly wriggles her way into it, still feeling slightly odd about the way the right sleeve falls limp at her side.

It’s with a sigh that she makes her way downstairs, frowning slightly at all the decorations her father went through the trouble of putting up for the holiday season. It’s strange, seeing so many things from her past that always made her feel joyful and merry and _happy_ , when now she feels… nothing. She looks at the stockings over the fireplace and feels a weight settle in the pit of her stomach when she knows Ruby’s will be left empty.

Determined not to spiral further today, Yang makes her way to the kitchen. What she finds there is certainly not what she’s expecting, and despite every ounce of her that’s felt cold and empty today, she finds herself nearly laughing out loud. It doesn’t quite make it there, though a smirk does slip through and she feels just a little lighter.

“ _What_ are you doing?” Yang asks, shaking her head as she watches her dad from the kitchen doorway.

Tai turns around, flour plastered across his cheeks – much like it is to the walls and floor of the kitchen. His hair is disheveled, the pink apron he dug out of who knows where is caked with various ingredients, and he looks utterly defeated with the old wooden spoon in one hand. Ever the optimist her father is, though, and he throws on a smile.

“Making cookies! I used to do it for you girls every year when you were little and…” He shrugs. “Old habits die hard I suppose.”

Yang smiles, soft and sad, remembering the first year her father tried to make cookies for them around the holidays. It was the winter after Summer disappeared. He’d spiraled hard that winter, the cold gripping him and weighing him down. There had been days where he didn’t even leave his room and Yang had been so angry. Angry because she was just a kid, and Ruby no more than a toddler. Qrow hadn’t always been around on those days, and Yang had to be the adult. Had to make sure Ruby didn’t catch a cold. Make sure she stayed warm. Make sure she ate. But with time, the anger faded. And today… today Yang could almost understand what her father must’ve been feeling, which scares her more than she cares to think about.

But she _does_ remember the day he baked cookies for them. It had been something Summer did every year, and he insisted that he could do it instead, when Ruby had looked so crestfallen over the concept of no holiday cookies. Yang supposes that after losing so much, it was one thing he’d felt they could hold onto. Suffice it to say, it had been easier said than done, and Yang and Ruby had walked in to a rather similar scene to the one Yang was witnessing now.

Only about… a million times worse.

Yang shakes her head now, chuckling lightly as she wanders into the kitchen. “Maybe some habits _should_ die, though.”

Tai places a hand to his chest as Yang leans back against the counter. “You said you always loved my cookies!”

Yang smirks and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, nothing says ‘holidays’ like headless gingerbread men.”

“That was _one_ year, and it’s not my fault your sister rolled the dough too thin.”

Yang smiles, laughing just barely, before looking over to see what her dad had been doing. “You always were bad at rolling dough, too,” she says, looking at the mess on the counter. “You don’t need _that_ much flour.”

Tai crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Are you the dough-rolling master?”

Yang smirks. “Better than you.”

Tai grins, gesturing to the dough in front of him. “Then have at it.”

Yang pushes off the counter and nudges her father out of her way with her hip. “Watch and learn, old man.”

It’s harder with one arm, Yang quickly learns, but she likes to believe that she’s still better at it than her father, rolling it just thin enough so that the cookie cutter gingerbread men won’t lose their heads, but will still bake nicely in the oven.

She puts the rolling pin to the side once she’s done and wipes the beads of sweat from her brow. Part of her is ashamed that she broke a sweat from such a menial task. Something _easy._ Something a toddler could do.

The shame boils to frustration quickly and Yang lets out a huff as she runs a hand through her bangs and tries to fight back tears. She doesn’t understand why she wants to cry. It’s so _stupid_ that she wants to cry. She hadn’t even failed at what she was doing, and yet it doesn’t feel like a victory. Then again, rolling out cookie dough shouldn’t even have to feel like a victory. It should just be a normal task. But now everyday things are a challenge and—

“You okay, kiddo?” Her dad’s voice is soft, and his hand lands gently on her shoulder, but Yang’s quick to brush it off.

“I’m fine,” she says, striding away from the counter and toward the door before her tears can fall. She pauses with her hand on the kitchen door and takes a deep breath to make sure her voice is steady before she speaks again. “I’ll be in my room.”

She’s lost in her own thoughts for about an hour before there’s a light knock on her door. She’s relieved that the tears never came, because now at least she won’t have to face her father’s concerns with puffy eyes and a hoarse voice.

“Yeah,” she says, and Tai slowly opens the door, only peeking his head around the corner to start.

“Hey, you doing okay?”

Yang sits up in her bed, pulling her knees to her chest and turning her head to look out the window instead. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She says with a shrug.

She hears her father sigh from the doorway, the door swing open, a chair be dragged across the hardwood before coming to a stop at her bedside. There’s the creaking of wood as her father takes a seat there and then it’s simply quiet.

Yang wishes that the snowflakes falling from the sky were raindrops; to drown out the deafening silence that fills the room as they each wait for the other to speak.

Finally, Tai sighs again. “The cookies came out good,” he says. “They’re downstairs if you want to go try some.”

Yang shrugs, playing with her sheet between her thumb and forefinger. “Maybe later.”

There’s another long pause, the tension in the air thick. When her father speaks, it’s slow and careful. “I… still have a little shopping to do before the holidays. Anything in particular you want this year?”

“No,” she says. Her hand instantly balls into her sheets as what she _really_ wants flicks across her mind. “Nothing you can get me,” she snaps before she can control it, the words bitter and cracked as tears spring to her eyes again. She grits her teeth and wipes furiously at her eyes as her tears spill over.

The bed dips next to her, but she doesn’t turn to face her father as he speaks. “Yang, I know this might not help, but I know there are people working on a new arm for—”

“I don’t _care_ about my arm.”

Silence falls over them again as her words echo in her ears. It’s not exactly true, because _yes_ that’s been… hard. But it could be so much easier. It would’ve been so much easier if… if she had just _stayed._ Why had it been so impossible for her to stay? Why had she needed to leave without even a damn _note_ to let Yang know where she was going, to let her know she was okay? Why did _everyone_ always have to—

“Kiddo…” He places a hand on Yang’s shoulder and she instantly shrugs it away, scooting further up her bed and sniffing a few times as she gets her tears under control.

“I’m fine. I don’t—I don’t need you to—to—” Yang huffs, her face falling as her voice goes quiet, her eyes darting to the window again. “I don’t need anyone. They… they always just leave anyway so… what’s the point?”

There’s a beat, and Yang thinks maybe her father will leave her alone now. Leave her alone like everyone else always has. Instead she’s met with the realization that he hasn’t moved an inch and the stillness is so unnerving that her eyes flick to look at him. He looks… tired. And scared. And sad. But there’s not a trace of the pity she’d expected. He schools his features into something more neutral as he nods and looks away.

“I… understand why you might feel that way,” he says finally, and Yang’s lips twitch into a frown at the reminder that she’s not the only one that’s been left behind before. “But Yang. That doesn’t mean you stop caring.”

Yang sighs and hugs her knees to her chest a little tighter. “I know,” she says, voice small. “That’s the _problem_. I can’t… I can’t stop caring…” _about her._ She doesn’t actually say that last part because it’s complicated, and not something she cares to talk about with her father right now, even if the implication is there. It’s not something she truly even wants to admit to herself, because everything would be so much easier if she just didn’t care. If she could just forget Blake ever existed. But she’s reminded of her in the smallest of tasks. In putting on a hoodie, in rolling out cookie dough, in trying to hug warmth into her bones.

It’s hard enough missing one part of herself; but missing _two_ is…

There’s no stopping the flood of tears that escapes her this time. The dam breaks and sobs wrack her body. Where in the past, tears had always helped ease whatever ache was in her chest, this time they do nothing but stain her cheeks and sheets.

When her father leans forward and wraps his arms around her, she doesn’t bat him away. She doesn’t have the energy, let alone the desire to. So, instead, she buries her face into his chest and curls her hand into the fabric of his shirt as his fingers comb through her hair.

Still, she feels like the room is spinning. She feels like she’s not even her, like she’s looking at the scene from a doorway, and the feeling is so jarring, leaving her feeling more empty and hollow than she had all day.

But, a moment later, the stubble on her father’s chin scratches lightly against her forehead as he places a kiss to the crown of her head, grounding her in her body, in her room, and she feels just a little calmer as he whispers against her head, his hand rubbing soothing circles into her back. “I… know I’m not who you’re missing,” he says slowly, as Yang’s tears finally calm down, “but, I want you to know I’ll always be here for you, Yang. I promise.”

Yang feels her shoulders sag in exhaustion, but she still nods, appreciating the sentiment. “Th-Thanks, dad.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, just continues to hold her until she feels a little less cold than she did. And once Yang feels like the weight is now only hovering above her, waiting to drop again, she pulls back and puts on a half-hearted smile, eager to move on with the day. “So,” she says, “cookies?”

Tai forces a smile of his own, a little wary, but letting it drop. They end up downstairs a little later with misshapen gingerbread men and weak hot chocolate; settled on the couch with a mediocre holiday movie playing. And while Yang still feels cold, she hopes that maybe one day she’ll feel warm again.


	2. I Just Want You for My Own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so freaking HARD to find lyrics that don't say CHRISTMAS to use as titles. ANYWAY! Here's part 2 aka tooth-rotting fluff. Hope you enjoy!

It’s warm. That’s what Yang’s most aware of. She snuggles further into the warmth and the source of it snuggles _back_. A smile slips across Yang’s lips as soft hair and ears brush under her chin, against her neck. Warm breaths skip lightly over her collarbones, and she’s just as grateful that she gets to wake up to this today as she is every day.

Yang cracks an eye open and chances a glance at the clock on Blake’s nightstand, sighing and snuggling further into their bed, into her wife’s embrace, when she realizes it’s only 6 a.m.

She chuckles lightly when one of Blake’s ears flicks in her sleep, tickling Yang’s jaw. Her wife groans as she tries to snuggle further into Yang’s chest, determined not to be awake yet. Yang finds it a little funny, seeing as back when they were younger, Yang distinctly remembers Blake tugging _her_ around in the mornings.

But she supposes things were different then. Now, there’s no world that needs saving. No dark pasts to overcome. Just them and their life together.

Yang drops a kiss between Blake’s ears, her heart thumping a little faster when she feels the pleased hum Blake lets out against her chest. Yang’s hand wanders the plane of Blake’s back, slipping under her t-shirt to feel the warmth of her skin directly.

She can hear Blake’s smile when she speaks. “Well, good morning.”

Yang smiles, nuzzling her nose into Blake’s hair and breathing deep, savoring the scent of lilac. “Morning,” she says, voice rough from the early hour. But she knows if she wants any quiet time with her wife today, it’s going to have to be now. Still, Blake’s a night owl anymore, not an early riser, and so Yang offers her an out. “You don’t have to be up yet,” she says, hand moving gently up and down Blake’s spine.

Blake hums, thoughtfully, and Yang feels her fingers curl into her t-shirt and tug her hips forward. “What if I want to be up?” Blake mumbles, her lips pressing lightly to Yang’s chest before her nose trails gently up along her neck, until her mouth finds the underside of Yang’s jaw.

Yang chuckles, just a little uneasy, because today of all days this is a little dangerous. There’s a good chance they don’t have enough time, and it _really_ shouldn’t be as tempting as it is, but—

Blake nips at her jaw and the rational part of her brain stops working. Yang grins. “Then I guess you can unwrap your first present.”

Blake laughs, letting go of Yang’s t-shirt so her fingers can start to slip under it. “Oh? And what would my first present be?”

Blake’s hands are gentle in their exploration of Yang’s abdomen, the rough callouses from a life of fighting slowly starting to fade away. Her lips pepper kisses along Yang’s jawline to her chin before she shifts up just enough for their lips to meet. The kiss is slow, gentle and lazy in the cool winter morning. Yang’s hand presses into Blake’s back to hold her closer, heart warming when Blake’s hand skirts out around her hip to do the same.

They break apart for a breath a moment later, still close enough for their noses to brush, for them to breathe the same air. But far enough that when Blake’s eyes flutter open, Yang can see them clearly. Warm amber alight with love and adoration, all directed at her.

She’s quick to kiss her again, and Blake laughs against her mouth at the eagerness. The sound is happy and warm, and Yang’s heart soars knowing it’s because of her. Them. _This._

Yang’s tongue darts out to run along Blake’s bottom lip, and Blake groans in frustration. _Not_ the good kind. Yang’s confused as Blake leans back instead of pushing forward, and then Blake sighs. “You’re going to have to hang on to that thought,” she says with a smirk.

Yang’s still confused for a moment longer until she hears it too; the unmistakable sounds of footsteps clambering down the hallway, excited whispers, and hushed laughter. She smiles, despite the interruption, because it’s one she can’t really be upset about.

She sighs and turns her attention back towards Blake with a lopsided smile, quickly leaning forward and pressing one more soft kiss to her wife’s lips before slipping her hand out from under her shirt. Blake does the same, tugging Yang’s shirt down to cover her stomach just as the door to their bedroom is barreled into.

There’s a soft ‘ _oof’_ on the other side of the door and Yang tries not to laugh, curling forward until her forehead meets Blake’s. Blake doesn’t try nearly as hard to hide her amusement, laughing lightly as there’s clearly a battle for the doorknob. Yang finds it insanely endearing.

“ _I wanna do it.”_

_“No, let me!”_

Once Blake gets her laughter under control and the bickering on the other side of their door seems to be coming to an end, Blake closes her eyes and sighs. She whispers, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “And… five, four, three, two…”

Yang almost bursts out laughing when their door flings open right on cue, but it’s completely stifled by the knee she takes to the stomach as the twins throw themselves onto their bed. But then there’s a chorus of cheerful ‘good mornings’ and excited bouncing and chattering, and any pain she might’ve felt simmers to nothing.

Still, Kira’s knee is definitely still digging into her side – and Yang has learned that five-year-olds _can_ cause more damage than she ever thought possible — so she wraps her arm around her daughter’s waist and drags her down so she’s laying in the space between her and Blake. A squeak followed by a string of laughter, making Yang smile as she presses a kiss to her daughter’s head.

Where Kira’s content to be distracted, Tyson is… not. And Yang grins at the scene before her.

“Come on!” he says, trying valiantly to tug Blake upright by her arm. “ _Presents!”_

Blake chuckles and tugs him down as well, the twins side-by-side between them as Blake speaks, tickling Tyson’s ribs with one hand. “You know today’s not just about presents, right, little prince?”

Tyson curls in on himself in a fit of giggles as he tries to wriggle away from Blake’s hand.

Blake relents, and leans down to nuzzle her forehead against their son’s. “It’s about _family._ About being with the people we love…” Blake’s hand finds Yang’s and Yang’s heart skips a beat, even after all these years, “and the people who love us.”

There’s a quiet moment where Blake’s words hold, and Yang nearly wants to cry. Warm in her bed, surrounded by her family, the love of her life, their children; it’s something Yang always imagined for herself, but never thought she’d get to have, and she wants to remember this forever. Blake holding their son, Kira snuggled to her chest, Blake’s free hand on hers… it’s all just perfect.

But with kids on a holiday morning… Yang knows it’s bound not to last, and of course Tyson’s the one to break the moment.

“There _are_ presents though, right?” He asks.

Blake sighs, her face sliding to hide in her pillow, defeated as she mumbles a muffled, “Yes.” And then the energy is back in the morning and the kids are scrambling out of their arms and off the bed. As the twins race for the stairs Yang chuckles, brushing Blake’s hair behind her ear until she turns her head to look at her. “I tried,” Blake says, and Yang smiles, leaning forward to press a kiss to her nose.

“I know.”

“We should probably get up,” Blake says, shuffling closer to Yang again.

Yang chuckles. “I know.”

“I just… need a minute,” Blake says, yawning.

Yang cups her jaw and places a light kiss to her lips. “I know.” She sighs. “I’ll go downstairs and make sure they haven’t torn through everything yet. You good to check on Riley?”

Blake hums and nods. “Be down in a second, promise.”

Yang smiles and presses one more kiss to Blake’s forehead, whispering, “I love you,” before she slips out of bed and reconnects her prosthetic for the day; Blake’s mumbled “I love you too,” putting a bit of a spring in her step.

When she gets downstairs, she’s pleased to find that – even through their excitement – the twins did show _some_ restraint. While presents are being picked up and shaken, none are actually unwrapped, and Yang’s excited that she’ll get to see their faces when they open them.

“No opening anything ‘til your mom comes down,” Yang says as she wanders towards the kitchen.

There’s a shared groan from the twins followed by pleas of, “Please, mama?” and “Just one!”

Yang groans internally and is glad she can’t actually see their faces as she starts the tea for Blake. “Nope! You’ll just have to be patient; I know you can do it.”

There are mumbles of disappointment and Yang feels a little bad. “Hey, why don’t you two come in here and help me with this?”

Having five-year-olds help in the kitchen probably makes the ritual of making tea more difficult, but it certainly helps keep them preoccupied as they wait for Blake to come downstairs. Unfortunately, they finish a little too quickly still and Yang’s left having to keep them distracted.

She isn’t sure how, but it turns into them convincing her that homemade hot chocolate is easy, which she quickly learns is a _lie_. But damn, she _will not_ be out smarted by children, and she _will_ make this hot chocolate perfect if it’s the last thing she does.

Tyson and Kira giggle as Yang stumbles through the process. Particularly when she mutters “ _is this bowl even microwavable?”_ under her breath, followed by _“shit, no!”_ as she tugs it out before anything can really go wrong.

The twins tease her about cursing as Yang starts to work on the stove instead and Yang sticks her tongue out at them.

“Very mature, Yang.”

Yang jumps a little from her spot at the stove and blushes as she meets her wife’s gaze. “They started it,” Yang says.

Blake rolls her eyes, strolling over to place a kiss to Yang’s cheek and Yang smiles. She turns to return the favor, then gently kisses the forehead of the sleeping toddler in Blake’s arms as well.

“Why don’t you rally the troops back into the other room? I’ll be there in a minute,” Yang says.

Blake smiles and gets the kids into the other room as Yang finishes up making what is probably the _sweetest_ hot chocolate she has ever tasted in her life.

Once she joins them and the twins are given the go ahead, there’s a whirlwind of life, wrapping paper flying and excited gasps as they unwrap each new treasure. Given how much build up there had been to this moment, it’s all over rather quickly and the twins are off to play with their new stuff, leaving Blake and Yang with a still sleeping Riley.

“I swear, this kid could sleep through the end of the world,” Yang says, gently brushing her daughter’s bangs away from her face.

Blake laughs. “I can’t imagine where she gets it from.”

Yang looks up to find Blake smirking at her and she cocks an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Who was the one that left me to fend off the wonder twins because she needed extra sleep?”

“Who wouldn’t be here right now if I hadn’t pulled her out of bed every morning for _years?”_

Yang sighs, looking back down at Riley. She shrugs. “Guess she gets it from both of us.”

Blake’s words stick with her a moment, however, and Yang thinks back. She thinks back on all the mornings they’ve spent together now. Thinks back on all the holidays. How warm and bright and full of life each of them has been.

Their first one together in Atlas. Surrounded by chaos and tension, but finding solace in one another.

Their first one after the end of the war, surrounded by their families and loved ones.

Their first one as a married couple, surrounded by the sheets of their bed.

Their first one as parents, surrounded by their love for each other and their children.

And all the ones in between hold just as an important place in Yang’s heart.

But she also could never forget the one first they’d never have. The one that would’ve been their first year as teammates, as friends, as partners.

With the memory of that year so distant, Yang thinks it should be easy to put it away, tuck it into a box better left forgotten, but she still remembers it so clearly. How cold it had been, how lifeless, how empty. But she thinks that maybe that’s why every single one they’ve spent together has felt so substantial.

“Hey,” Blake says, softly, her hand laying over Yang’s knee and bringing her back to the moment. She looks up at her a little worried, amber eyes warm and caring. “Where’d you wander off to, sweetheart?”

Yang smiles at her, reaching out to tuck some of Blake’s hair behind her ear as she shakes her head. “Nowhere,” she says, fighting through the knot forming in her throat as she leans forward and presses their lips together in a chaste kiss. “I’m right here, with you.”

Blake sighs in the inch of space between them before kissing her again. “I’m with you,” she says, her eyes opening to look into Yang’s, despite how close they still are. “And I love you.”

Yang smiles, her thumb stroking over the line of Blake’s jaw. “I love you too.”

They let the moment settle and then there’s a loud crash from the other room and they both let out a sigh of laughter as they hear Kira shout, “Tyson did it!”

Once they deal with the mess made by the twins, they manage to get them calmed down enough for a movie. The kids end up on the floor with misshapen cookies and overly sweet hot chocolate, while Yang lays across the couch, Blake curled on top of her as a mediocre holiday movie plays. Blake presses a kiss under her jaw and the kids are entranced by the screen, chatter dying out to holiday wonder, and Yang feels warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! :) Hope you enjoyed, and please feel free to drop a comment or kudos, etc. It's seriously appreciated... you have no idea. <3
> 
> Have a great day/ night! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: empressofedge
> 
> (Also, if you read You and Me, and One Hot Summer, please expect an update probably this coming weekend haha sorry the holidays have kept me busy!)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, I'm open to feedback. (I was meh on the ending, so let me know!) Also, if you liked it feel free to drop a kudos, comment, bookmark, etc! Really, it always means so much!
> 
> Hope you have a great day/ night and I'll see y'all in pt2 (coming either tomorrow 12/23 or on xmas eve 12/24, stay tuned! I PROMISE PT 2 WILL BE MUCH KINDER)
> 
> Find me on tumblr: empressofedge
> 
> (Did I listen to "Please Come Home for Christmas" by the Eagles on repeat while writing this? Yes. Yes I did.)


End file.
